


Among the Stars

by SharkGirl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Acceptance, Altean Hunk (Voltron), Altean Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Alternate Timeline, BOM Keith (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, M/M, Prince Lance (Voltron), Self-Acceptance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-21 15:18:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11946999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkGirl/pseuds/SharkGirl
Summary: As the second born and only son of the King of Altea, Lance has led an easy life up until now. But he longs for something more and a way to prove himself to his father.Keith has always been...different. He works harder, trains harder, but it never seems to be enough. And with a war on the horizon, he aims to show his true value to the only family he's ever known.Both wish for acceptance, but neither is prepared for how they must earn it.





	1. Prince Lance of Altea

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!! I'm back with another Klance fic~  
> This time it's featuring Altean Lance (my favorite!!) and BoM Keith (my second favorite!)
> 
> The first chapter is in Lance's POV (third person, ofc) and gives you a glimpse into the life of the second born and only son of King Alfor of Altea.
> 
> It's going to be a long one, so...get ready XD  
> Special thanks to Incognito4713 for all the brainstorming help and beta reading~♡  
> Please enjoy!!

“I really don’t think this is a good idea, Your Highness,” Hunk said nervously, gaze darting from side to side before settling on his prince, who was tugging on the rope of knotted bedsheets tied to the heavy desk by his window.

“First of all,” he began, seeming suitably pleased with the makeshift rope’s strength, “It was _my_ idea, so, of course it’s a good one. Secondly,” he lifted the pile of sheets and threw them out the window, watching as they unfurled, creating the perfect escape route. “You’ve known me for, like, my whole life, Hunk. Just call me Lance.”

“Right, sure thing, Your Hi-” Hunk paused when the prince quirked a brow. “Got it, Lance.”

“Honestly, you’ve been acting like this ever since you got promoted to Royal Babysitter,” Lance sighed and shook his head. “Don’t take the role so seriously, huh?”

“But, ya see, here’s the thing…I’m supposed to take it seriously,” Hunk explained, glancing back at the door to the prince’s bedchamber as if any moment someone might burst through, demanding to know what they were up to. “And we really shouldn’t be going out. We’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Well,” Lance paused, swinging one leg out of the open window before looking back at Hunk. “You can stay in here where you’re _supposed_ to be, or…” He grinned, lifting his other leg over. “You can come with me and have some fun.”

“Lance-”

“See you down there.” The prince beamed and then let himself drop, his hands sliding along the length of the sheets as he rappelled down the side of his tower.

His chambers were situated in the west wing, farthest from the rest of the royal family and closest to the rooms set aside for members of high ranking nobles – friends of the family, like Hunk – and esteemed guests. Though, they hadn’t had any of those in ages, it seemed.

When Lance touched the ground, the gravel crunching under his boots, he looked back up just in time to see Hunk’s face peering down at him. He motioned for the other to follow. He would be fine by himself, but it was much more fun sneaking around with a partner in crime, so to speak. And Hunk fit the bill perfectly. Always had.

Not even half a dobash later, Hunk clambered out of the window, gripping onto the rope for dear life, and wriggling his way down, looking everywhere but at the ground.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me.” Lance flashed him another toothy grin and Hunk just sighed, the sheets still in his grasp. Lance chuckled and reached for his friend’s hand, prying the fabric from his death grip before patting his large knuckles reassuringly. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Hunk drew his brows down. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you, Highness.”

“Oh, don’t be like that!” Lance chastised him. “Where’s your sense of adventure!”

“Up there.” He pointed toward Lance’s window. “Where we should be.”

The prince rolled his eyes and then looped his arms around one of Hunk’s. Lance gave a mighty yank but the other remained rooted to his spot. “Let’s go before we miss it completely.” He turned back, sticking out his lower lip and blinking wet eyes.

And, with another long-suffering sigh, Hunk acquiesced.

Lance cheered giddily and pulled him along, carefully following an invisible path through the garden that surrounded his wing of the castle. It was lush and beautiful, filled with fragrant juniberry flowers and an overabundance of ripe, succulent fruit. But the prince wasn’t interested in any of that tonight. No. Tonight he wanted to see the Ocean Lights.

After they made it through the garden, bypassing the labyrinth that was the hedge maze, they climbed a steep hill. In his excitement, Lance stumbled, but only once. He heard Hunk grunt behind him as the other surely got a face full of cool grass.

When Lance crested the hill, he breathed in the chilly air from the sea, tasting the salt on his tongue. Oh, how beautiful it was, the deep, darkness of the vast ocean, its waves reflecting the light of their moons – inorganic as they were. It was a sight to behold.

A few ticks later, Hunk appeared at his side, bending over at the waist as he fought to catch his breath. Then he stood up. “Okay. We saw it. Let’s go.”

“Not yet.” Lance held a hand up. And, almost as if on cue, it started. It was hard to tell at first, as it looked like a trick of the light. But then the sea began to glow, specks of bioluminescent light blossoming beneath the waves. It was the ctenophora ray migration and he’d been waiting so long to see it again.

They were beautiful, their large, flat bodies skimming over the surface, only to dive back down below. And Lance wished he could be out there with them, gliding through the water. Happy. Free.

“Aren’t they…something else?” Lance sighed. Hunk didn’t answer, but he caught his nod in his periphery.

It was time to go. He knew that. They were out past his curfew and very much in the open. Any moment now the guards would make their rounds and Lance didn’t want to think about what else his father would take away, should they get caught.

So, with one last lingering look at the breathtaking view, he wrapped his fingers around Hunk’s wrist, intent on leading him back down the hill. But he paused, something catching his eye. Lance turned back, scanning the horizon until he saw it again.

“A ship,” he breathed.

“A ship?” Hunk echoed, turning his head from side to side as he searched for it. He must have spotted it, because he added. “Why’s it coming in over there? The spaceport is on the other side of the harbor.”

“I’m not sure.” Lance bit his lip, excitement bubbling up in his chest. “But I’m going to find out.”

“Oh, you most certainly are not,” a voice interrupted and Lance grimaced. He turned around slowly, plastering on an innocent smile.

“Allura,” he greeted. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

“I should be asking you the very same question,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. She appeared to be alone, but Lance knew better. There were probably at least two royal bodyguards just out of sight. “Enjoying a late night stroll?” she asked.

“Princess.” Hunk stepped forward, falling onto one knee in a deep bow. “I apologize for having the prince out of his room so late. I’ll accept any punishment for my-”

“Hunk, please.” Allura rolled her eyes and motioned for him to stand up. “We both know my brother is to blame.” Then she turned toward Lance again, expression stern. “If Father knew you were out here-”

Lance interrupted her with a frown. “Are you going to tell him?”

Allura was taken aback for a moment before she composed herself. “No. I don’t think that will be required, _if_ -”

“If I do whatever it is you want me to do,” Lance finished for her, resting one hand on his cocked hip and gesturing toward her with the other. “Well, spit it out, Sis.”

“You know, I really ought to tell Father,” she began, but then shook her head, her long hair swaying with the motion. “But he doesn’t need the added stress.”

Lance took offense to that and was about to vocalize the fact, but Allura went on.

“Father has requested your presence at the meeting tomorrow.”

Well…that wasn’t at all what Lance had been expecting. Never mind that he was not yet of age to be discussing diplomacy alongside his parents and sister – his eighteenth birthday wasn’t even until next season – but the good King Alfor usually kept his son away from the diplomats, all together. Whether it was because his father was overprotective or because he was disappointed or ashamed – or perhaps some sort of combination – but Lance had always been excluded from such meetings.

Sure, he was allowed to go to social events, encouraged to meet with other nobles, and even trotted out when the royal family paraded through the city. But to be requested to join peacekeeping negotiations? Well, that was unheard of.

So, it wasn’t surprising to anyone, let alone himself, when Lance blurted out a quick, “Really?!” Which was echoed, though much less incredulously, by Hunk.

“Yes, really,” Allura answered, an annoyed crease beginning to form between her brows. “Now, the meeting is scheduled right after breakfast, so I suggest you-”

“Right, already on it!” Lance called over his shoulder as he made his way back toward the garden, the mysterious ship completely forgotten. “See you in the morning, ‘Lura,” he sang, barely catching Hunk’s hurried apology, which was quickly followed by the sound of twigs snapping beneath the other’s feet.

“We are so lucky,” Hunk sighed with relief once he caught up, falling into step beside Lance, though he fought to keep pace. Lance was excited. “So, big news, huh?”

“The best news,” Lance agreed. “I can finally prove that I’m not some little prince who needs to be constantly handled by a nursemaid,” he paused, shooting Hunk an apologetic glance. “No offense.”

They made it through the garden and back to Lance’s tower, but the bedsheet rope was no longer hanging from his window. Most likely Allura’s doing. She’d probably come to his chamber first to tell him their father’s wishes. Thankfully, there was a guard standing just off to the side, holding a door open for them.

“Thanks,” Hunk said with a wave, but Lance just walked in. He didn’t like being treated like a child and, once he showed what an excellent representative he could be, his father would finally see him as the capable man that he truly was. “So,” Hunk interrupted his thoughts once they reached the top of the stairs and stepped back into his room. “We’re going straight to bed now, right?”

“Wrong!” Lance replied and Hunk deflated. “I need to do more than just impress my father tomorrow,” he explained, walking over toward his closet. “And nothing sets the tone for a perfect first impression like the right outfit.” He threw the doors open and turned just as Hunk was making his way toward his own chamber. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To bed?” Hunk asked hopefully.

“Oh, no.” Lance tutted, gripping Hunk by the back of his tunic. “You’re going to help.”

 

The next morning, Lance was up before the sun. He’d already washed his face, brushed his teeth, and was in the middle of fixing his hair when Hunk lumbered in, still half-asleep and wearing his pajamas.

“Izzit meetin’ time?” he asked groggily, rubbing one of his eyes.

“Not for a while yet,” Lance replied, smoothing down a stray eyebrow hair until it fell back in line. “I just couldn’t sleep.” It wasn’t a lie. Lance was beside himself with eagerness. His father had finally invited him to sit in on one of his important peacekeeping meetings. It was an honor and a privilege and Lance was going to do everything in his power to make sure he shined.

Hunk blinked, waking up a bit more. “Is it at least breakfast time?”

Lance snickered.

A few dobash later, they were both ready. Lance’s outfit, which he’d chosen the night before with the help of his nearest and dearest friend – who definitely wasn’t about to kill him by the end of his ‘fashion show’ – had been hanging from a hook beside his closet door, ready and waiting.

He’d made the right choice. His outfit was mostly white, complimenting his darker skin and hair. Though the latter was a constant annoyance and a reminder that he was…different. His mother, father, and sister all had white hair, but his was a dark brown. He was told he resembled his maternal grandmother’s brother, but that did little to ease his perceived exclusion.

Lance shook his head, clearing his thoughts. It didn’t matter if he didn’t match, he was still the prince and he definitely looked like one. Like the rest of the royal family, his Altean markings were just above his cheekbones, blue, like his father's – the position reflecting his nobility and the particular shade representing his status.

The rest of his outfit was colored in light and dark blues, with hints of gold. It was one of his finest, but not so grand as to make him look out of place at the assembly. He just hoped his father would approve.

When they arrived in the dining room, Hunk immediately took his seat and began loading his plate. Lance, on the other hand, paced the floor, nervous excitement building in his belly and threating to spill all over the floor, should he attempt to ingest anything.

Hunk glanced up at him, a worried crease in his brow. He finished chewing and swallowed before he spoke. “You should really eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” Lance replied quickly.

“Those meetings go on for hours,” Hunk clarified. “You don’t want to run the risk of fainting in front of the other diplomats, do you?”

Sometimes it was frustrating that Hunk knew him so well. Most of the time, it was great. He always knew exactly what Lance meant and, often, what he was thinking. But bringing up previous embarrassments hadn’t made it onto the list of reasons to keep a friend for life.

“That was one time,” Lance said, pausing to cross his arms over his chest. “It’s not like I’m some dainty royal who can’t afford to skip a meal.”

At that, Hunk looked him up and down, a frown on his lips.

“I’m just slender,” Lance said before the other could comment. “That’s why I’m suited perfectly for stealth and maneuverability. All this lean muscle.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Hunk lifted his glass and drained it, failing to hide an amused smile behind the rim.

Lance narrowed his eyes, but sat down anyway, spooning a few berries onto his plate and poking at them with his fork. “I’m only eating these for your sake,” he explained, though his stomach gurgled and his mouth watered at the sight of their ripe plumpness.

Hunk raised his brows, but nodded, already on to his second plate. “Yes, Your Highness.”

The berries only proved to whet Lance’s appetite and, to his best friend’s great relief, he did end up eating a proper breakfast after that.

They were just leaving the dining room when Lance spotted a familiar blue face toward the end of the hallway. He left Hunk without a word, going into a full sprint before practically launching himself into the other man’s arms.

“Uncle Blaytz!” he cried, knocking the leader of the Nalquod people off balance.

“Whoa! Watch the scimitars!” he chuckled, righting himself and patting his signature weapons, which were safely stowed at his sides. “Is that my Lance?”

The prince released him and took a step back, beaming brightly and only looking the slightest bit sheepish for reacting in a manner unbecoming of the son of the king. “Sure is!”

“Good grief, my boy. You’ve shot up like a weed!” He lifted a large, gloved hand and mussed Lance’s hair. “What are you now? Twenty? Thirty?” He snorted then. “Alfor better watch out. You’re sure to have an endless line of suitors coming your way.”

It was no secret that Blaytz was Lance’s favorite of the world leaders who worked closely with his father. He was always fun-loving and kind, even to the staff. And he never treated Lance like a nuisance. He was just an all-around great man and Lance loved him like he was family.

“You flatter me, Uncle,” Lance replied, though he straightened up and preened. “Have you heard the news?” he gushed, unable to keep his excitement in check for a moment longer.

“The news? Hmm…” Blaytz brought a hand to his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully as his cephalic fins twitched. “Did you get a new outfit?” he asked after a moment and Lance’s face fell. “I’m joking, kid!” One of his hands landed heavily on Lance’s shoulder, giving him a rough shake. “I know you’ll be joining in on today’s meeting.”

“Oh.” Lance ducked his head, his cheeks growing warm.

“Glad Alfor’s finally letting you in on some of the action,” he said, removing his hand. Then he cleared his throat. “And by action, of course, I mean hours of endless proposals and paperwork. You’ll love it!” He grinned, bending down to elbow Lance in the ribs.

“Sounds…exciting,” Lance offered, though, honestly, he _was_ still eager. It was his first time getting to join in and have a say. Even if he fully intended to sit and watch this time around.

“Your Highness,” Hunk called him, having finally made it down the hallway. He wasn’t out of breath, which led Lance to believe that he’d taken his time catching up. He turned toward the older man and bowed. “Lord Blaytz.”

“Hey there, Hunk.” He wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Been taking good care of Lance, have you?” But he threw his head back and laughed before he could answer. “I know, you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Lance tried his best not to pout at that, but was happy to see Hunk simply shrug in response.

“Well, the meeting’s about to start,” Blaytz said, looking toward the double doors a bit farther down. He released Hunk and put his hands on his hips. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Thank you.” Hunk bowed and turned toward Lance. ‘Good luck,’ he mouthed and then left them to their business.

Lance thought he might explode as Blaytz led him into the meeting room, his large, reassuring hand gently pressing against the small of his back. He scanned the room, taking in the large, circular table at its center. There were seats all around it, but Lance wasn’t sure which would be his.

“I’ll just drop you off here,” Blaytz said, steering him toward what he assumed was the head of the table – if round tables had heads – Lance wasn’t completely sure. “Just relax,” he whispered. “You’ll do fine.”

Lance tried to do as he was told, but it was difficult. And when his uncle left to take his own seat at the other side of the table, his heart thudded so loudly in his chest, he was certain the entire room could hear it.

Half a tick later, there was a light weight on his shoulder, jerking him out of his own panic. Lance turned and saw Allura, her soft smile dropping in concern as she took in his expression. “Lance, are you quite all right?”

He opened his mouth, but was interrupted before he could begin.

“Dressed well and arrived early,” his father’s booming voice drew nearer. “I must say, I’m impressed, Son. You’re really taking this seriously.”

Lance nodded. “Yes, Father.” His parents were standing side by side, looking at him with – dare he believe it? – pride. Lance stood up a little taller and puffed out his chest. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

Both his mother and father raised their brows, the former suppressing a fond giggle. “I told you he was ready,” she said, side-eying her husband.

“That you did, Dearest,” he replied and then faced Lance once more. “Come, Son.” He turned, motioning for Lance to follow. “You’ll sit at my right, beside Allura.”

Once everyone was seated, it looked as though the meeting was about to begin. Lance noticed that one chair was vacant. But the king stood and everyone did the same.

“I hereby call to order the six hundred and fifty-eighth peacekeepers’ gathering and diplomatic assembly,” Alfor said and then took his seat, the other’s following suit. “Before we begin, I would like to review the previous meeting’s-” but he paused, his gaze shifting over to the representative from the Dalterion Belt, whose hand was raised high in the air. “Lady Trigel,” he acknowledged.

“I apologize for the interruption, King Alfor,” she said, head in a slight bow. “But I must inquire as to the absence of Lord Zarkon.”

“Yes,” Gyrgan spoke up. He was the leader of Rygnirath and another who Lance had known as long as he could remember. “Is he running behind?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance saw his father’s jaw clench. But the king released a breath and addressed the room. “We will be conducting our business today without the representative from Daibazaal.”

Lance found that strange, and so must have Allura, as she too turned fully toward their father.

“We’ve never had an assembly without him before.” Trigel frowned. “Has he fallen ill?”

“Yeah, what gives?” Blaytz joined in, his arms folded over his chest. “It’s not like Zarkon to miss a meeting.” He looked as though he might say something else, but he closed his mouth, waiting for an answer.

Although the others spoke politely, Lance could feel the tension in the room mounting. Something was going on. He just didn’t know what.

“Zarkon has voluntarily opted out of this conference,” Alfor answered. “As you may recall, he and his wife have been working around the clock to better understand the-” but he didn’t get to finish his sentence. The doors to the room were thrown open. A member of the staff quickly shuffled in, apologizing profusely as he knelt before his king.

“I am sorry, Sire,” he said. “I told them you were unable to grant an audience, but they were most insistent.” He turned just as three Galra soldiers, wearing uniforms that Lance didn’t recognize, stepped into the room.

“Please excuse our unbidden entry,” the one in front said, removing his hood to reveal a scarred face. “I am Kolivan of the Blade of Marmora and we are here to discuss the removal of Lord Zarkon and the overthrow of the budding Galran Empire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you all have a lot of questions (as did my beta, haha) But, not to worry, everything will be revealed in time. But feel free to ask away!
> 
> This takes place on an alternate timeline, so everything is out of order. No Voltron as of yet. 
> 
> The next chapter is in Keith's POV. Please look forward to it!!
> 
> Let me know what you think and hit me up on my Voltron side blog [@bleucheesy](http://bleucheesy.tumblr.com)! (main blog: @jubesy)
> 
> Edit: So, after the amazing amount of research on characters and VLD info, I managed to miss the fact that Alfor's Altean markings are blue. I mean...I just, forgot? Haha. Don't post before sleeping, haha. I fixed that. I'll make note of it before ch 2, as well.


	2. Keith and the Blade of Marmora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we get to learn a little about the other half of the pair, Keith!  
> And hey, they actually meet in this chapter, haha.
> 
> Also, a little note: I fixed Lance's markings in this and the previous chapter (in case you were one of the first to read ch 1 and are wondering why they're blue now)
> 
> Thank you, once again, to the lovely Incognito4713 for being a fabulous beta.  
> Please enjoy!!

Keith was jolted awake by a sudden bout of turbulence, a familiar voice still echoing in his ears and the taste of their name on his tongue. Automatically, he shot his hands out, his fingers gripping the armrests tightly as he closed his eyes and fought to control his breathing.

It seemed as though he would never get used to it.

It wasn’t the flying that bothered him. He’d started training to become a pilot as soon as his arms could reach the controls. It was like a second nature to him. Instinctual.

The taking off and landing, however…was more difficult. The others would often tease him, asking how he could navigate through the floating remnants of a destroyed planet with his eyes closed, but seize up the moment the landing gear extended.

“Are you all right?” a calm voice asked, followed by the warmth of a large hand over his.

He took another deep breath, clenching his teeth as the small ship gave another jerk, the familiar feeling of weightlessness almost too much in that moment. But his eyes fluttered open, his head pressed against the back of his seat as he glanced over at the Galra seated beside him. “Just fine,” he lied.

Thace saw through him in an instant, of course, but said nothing. Though, the warm comfort of his hand remained until they were safely into the calmer air of the Altean atmosphere.

“I’m surprised this vehicle held together,” Ulaz mused from closer to the cockpit. It may have been an attempt to ease Keith’s nerves or embarrassment. He hated to appear weak in front of the rest of the members of the Blade. “Though it would not have been wise to take anything larger.”

Ulaz was referring, of course, to the secrecy of their arrival. If they’d flown a larger class ship, it would have been more easily detected and they would have been captured or shot down before ever even speaking with the Altean king.

“Will we be landing soon?” Thace asked, clearly more for Keith’s sake than his own. And another wave of embarrassed guilt washed over him.

He hated it. Not Thace’s fatherly attention, but the feeling of appearing frail or fragile. It was bad enough that he was so much smaller than the other members, a runt, who resembled someone half-Altean more than a half-Galra, with his pale, pinkish-hued skin, dark hair and eyes.

“Shortly, yes,” Kolivan replied, pulling Keith from his own head. “There is an unoccupied area just on the other side of the harbor.” The fifth in their party, Antok, said nothing, but nodded when their leader spoke to him. He steered to the left, lowering the ship.

Keith sneaked a quick peek out the window when something caught his eye. Below was the harbor, but in the deeper waters, he saw a steady glow from beneath the waves. There were thousands of blurry points of light. It was beautiful, in a way, he supposed.

“All right, we’re coming in for a landing,” Kolivan announced, pulling Keith’s attention from the pulsing blue glow. “We’ll camp here for the night.”

“The meeting is scheduled for tomorrow morning,” Ulaz continued. Keith tried to listen, to focus on the reutterance of their plan, but the small ship shook violently as they landed.

“I still wonder if now is the right time,” Thace voiced his concern.

“There is no time to waste,” Ulaz replied. “With each passing quintent, Zarkon’s forces grow stronger. Soon, he will succeed in his goal of taking over our system and then he’ll move on. If we’ve any hope of stopping him, we must do so immediately.”

“I understand, but with this meeting being held on Altea…” Thace trailed off.

“Speak your mind, Thace.” Kolivan turned, getting up from his seat as the ship slowed to a halt.

“I fear the bond between King Alfor and Zarkon is too great,” he explained. “After all, the Altean princess is betrothed to the heir to the Galran throne.”

“That is why we must act now,” Ulaz interjected. “Alfor is a wise king. Surely he is not so ignorant as to blatantly dismiss charges brought against Zarkon, solely to keep the peace.”

“I agree.” Thace nodded. “But for us to accuse his long-time ally and friend on his home planet…”

Keith shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This had been the topic of discussion for as long as he could remember. When to act and how to go about it. He didn’t know much about war or diplomacy, but he knew that Zarkon was trying to create an unstoppable empire, taking over planets and slaying those who’d oppose him.

“Thace,” Kolivan addressed him. “You know as well as I the risks we’ve already taken and the losses we’ve sustained.” He looked off to the side for a moment before continuing. “We must rely on King Alfor’s good judgement and that of the rest of the peacekeepers.”

“And if they choose not to believe us?” Thace offered.

“Then they are fools,” Ulaz answered before Kolivan could. “And we’ll be better off without their aid.”

They were silent after that, each busying themselves with transforming the cabin into sleeping quarters. Keith watched Thace work, the latter setting up beds for both himself and Keith. But he didn’t dare ask the question balanced on the tip of his tongue until the lights were out.

“Thace,” he whispered. The other was angled away, but Keith knew he’d heard him, judging by the way one of his ears twitched. The Galra had excellent hearing, something that, as a half-breed, Keith only partially benefitted from.

There was a rustling of sheets and then Thace was facing him, eyes open and glowing a soft, warm yellow in the darkness of the cabin. “Yes, Keith.”

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” He’d said it in a rush and cursed himself for his lack of maturity and experience. Several times, he thought of asking why he’d been chosen to come on this particular mission, but he dared not, afraid of what the answer might be.

“I am…slightly apprehensive,” Thace replied slowly, his eyes slipping shut. “King Alfor has not responded to any communication from the Blade and I fear he may find our unsolicited visit most…upsetting.”

“Do you think he will want a fight?” Keith asked, his hand unconsciously moving to the scabbard at his back, his fingers tracing over the handle of his blade.

“I can’t be sure,” Thace breathed, opening his eyes again. “What we’re doing is treason in his eyes.” He sighed. “But it must be done.”

Keith knew that well. He’d been training since the moment he could walk to fight the would-be emperor of the Galra. No, not all of the Galra. The Blade of Marmora did not kneel before him, nor would they ever. Keith was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear Thace speak until there was a large hand on his forehead, sliding down to cover his eyes.

“Sleep now, Keith,” Thace repeated. “We’ve a big day tomorrow.”

 

The following morning came surprisingly quickly, but Keith’s eyes flew open the moment a hand touched his shoulder. They stowed their blankets and pillows, returning the cabin to flight-ready, should the need for a hasty exit arise.

“One last time,” Kolivan said before they left the ship, his gaze meeting each of theirs in turn. “Ulaz, Thace, and I will speak with Alfor and his committee. Antok and Keith will remain outside to ensure the king does not alert the guards.”

That didn’t sit well with Keith. He would have preferred to go inside with the rest of the team, but he didn’t vocalize his discontent and nodded when their leader made eye contact. He would not be the cause of any trouble.

Entering the Altean castle had been easy. The guards thought nothing of visiting Galran soldiers, not in these peaceful times. Still, Keith kept his head on a swivel, peering through the visor of his mask, watching and waiting to see if any of the guards would reach for their weapons.

They did, however, run into trouble when asking to see the king.

“I am terribly sorry,” an Altean said, bowing low. Keith had never seen one in person before. He could see the resemblance in their features, but noted that this man, unlike Keith, had brightly colored markings above his jaw and long, pointed ears. “His highness is currently in congregation and is not able to meet with any visitors.”

“We apologize for our tardiness,” Kolivan said, removing his mask and giving a quick nod of his head. “We are to be a part of this assembly.”

The member of the staff frowned, his eyes wide as he took in the five of them, clad in their dark black and purple armor. If the Altean had seen Galra soldiers before, he would know they didn’t match. “I am afraid I cannot-”

“Please,” Kolivan insisted and both Ulaz and Antok placed their hands over the hilts of their blades. Keith reached for his, as well, but stopped when Thace touched his shoulder, the older man shaking his head. “It is of the upmost importance that we speak with King Alfor immediately.”

The Altean’s lower lip quivered, but he bowed again, gesturing toward a long hallway. “Right this way.”

Keith had been too focused on the guards to notice before, but the castle was huge, with high, vaulted ceilings and smooth, polished floors. If not for the member of the staff leading them, it would have been quite easy to get lost in the maze of hallways and doors.

Windows lined their path, bright and open, letting in the morning sun. It was so different from the Blade’s headquarters, which, while impressive in its own right, was dark, a space station surrounded by infinite, inky blackness and pinpricks of light, hidden away from prying eyes.

They came to a halt in front of a pair of double doors. Ulaz and Thace removed their masks while the Altean took a deep breath and threw open the doors. Keith heard his rushed apology and then Kolivan was leading them inside. Thace turned and gave Keith a quick nod before following after. Then the doors closed.

It was not uncommon for Keith to be left behind, but it was his first time while on a mission of such importance. He took a deep breath and glanced over at Antok, who stood at parade rest, waiting patiently for Kolivan and the others to return.

Several long dobash passed and Keith had to stop himself from grabbing at his blade. So, instead, he opted for a distraction. “How do you think it’s going?” he asked.

Antok may have moved his head slightly, but did not answer.

“Right.” Keith chewed on his bottom lip, his face hot behind his mask. It was getting harder and harder to stand still. What if they needed him in there? What if the king refused to listen? He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts.

This was a peaceful mission on a peaceful planet. If the king didn’t want them there, he would simply ask them to leave.

But Keith still felt as though he should do _something_.

Just then, one of the doors opened. He whipped his head around, ready to jump in and froze when an Altean appeared.

“Wait!” the young man said, pushing against the hand at his back. “Father!” he called loudly, but then lowered his voice. “Uncle, please-” and Keith caught the tail end of an apology coming from inside before the door clicked shut, locking the Altean out.

The young man stood there, staring at the glossy wood, an expression of shocked hurt on his face. He didn’t look anything like the member of the staff who’d led them in. His skin was a warm, tan color that starkly contrasted with the white he wore and the bright, blue markings just below his eyes. His hair was brown and, although short, looked amazingly soft. His skin looked soft, too, supple, not roughened with hard work or training. He was long-limbed, and as he reached out to place a hand on the door, Keith saw only lean muscle.

Everything about him screamed royalty, from the thin tiara atop his brow, to the elegant, though uncomfortable-looking shoes on his feet.

When Keith’s gaze returned to his face, the Altean looked as though he might cry, his wide eyes glassy and wet. But then, before Keith could even think of how to begin offering some sort of comfort, the prince pulled his hand back and slapped the door hard, the sound echoing in the hallway.

“Quiznak!” he screeched and then kicked the door for good measure.

Keith took a step back and it was then that the prince noticed him standing there. His dark blue gaze shifted between Keith and Antok before settling on Keith once more. He drew his thin brows down in slight confusion as he assessed him. Then a slow smirk graced his lips, his hand coming up to rest on his cocked hip.

“Aren’t you a little short for a Galra soldier?” he asked

“Your Highness!” a voice called from farther down the hallway. They both turned and Keith peered past the prince to see another Altean coming their way. He was taller and heavier set, his brow creased with worry. “I came as soon as I was summoned.” He paused, catching his breath, dark eyes flicking to Keith and Antok before he once again addressed his prince. “What happened?”

“Everything was going fine until some Galra soldiers crashed the meeting,” he replied, shooting a glare over his shoulder. “Father insisted that I leave.”

The taller man frowned. “Oh, Lance. I’m sor-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Not here.”

That shouldn’t have angered Keith, but it did. The prince was upset because his daddy had made him leave the meeting? What a child. Didn’t he understand that their entire system was at stake? Maybe even the entire universe?

“Let’s go,” the prince said and Keith glanced up just in time to watch him storm off down the long hall. His servant, or whatever he was, followed after, giving a quick anxious glance over his shoulder at Keith and Antok before hastily catching up to his prince.

“What a brat,” Keith muttered under his breath. If Antok heard, he showed no sign of it.

Their time outside of the doors dragged on. Keith impatiently tapped his boot on the polished floor, his fingers wrapped around the handle of his blade, clenching and unclenching. He grit his teeth, his mind a mess. A thousand scenarios were running through his head and the longer he was separated from Thace and the others, the more on edge he became.

But he needed to calm down. Surely, he and Antok would have been alerted if something had gone awry. He just had to close his eyes and take deep breaths. Patience yielded focus, right? He was sure he’d heard something like that before, though the harder he tried to remember, the further away the memory slipped.

Keith heard the click of the door and jumped back, his hand returning to his weapon. But instead of an angry king stepping out, it was Kolivan, Ulaz, and Thace, followed by the Altean who’d led them there.

They quickly shut the door behind them. Antok moved from his position, turning himself fully toward their leader.

Kolivan cleared his throat. “King Alfor has agreed to hear what we have to say.”

“After much deliberation,” Ulaz added. Keith thought for a moment that he’d rolled his eyes, but that seemed a gesture below such a seasoned member of the Blade, so it must have been his imagination.

“They will continue their agenda as planned and will grant us an audience later this evening,” Kolivan continued.

Keith blinked. After all of that, the committee – or whatever – wouldn’t even hear them out for several more vargas? “Why?” The question was barely out of his mouth before Thace replied.

“The king is a busy man, Keith,” he answered, expression stern. But then his eyes softened. “We’ll get our chance.”

Not fully comprehending the need to wait, but knowing his place, Keith nodded.

“If you’ll allow me,” the Altean servant spoke. “I will show you to your rooms.”

“Yes, thank you.” Kolivan stepped aside so the shorter man could lead the way. “We appreciate your majesty’s warm welcome and generous hospitality.”

Once again, they were led through the labyrinth of hallways. This time, they passed a floor to ceiling picture window, which revealed a huge garden just outside. Ripe fruit and berries hung from every tree and shrub, and beautiful flowers were in bloom. It was breathtaking. But then they took another right turn and the garden was no longer in view.

“This door will lead you to the guest suite,” the Altean said, bowing low again. “It is suitable for a short rest, but we can furnish it with more beds, should the need arise.”

“Thank you.” Kolivan waved him off. “This will do just fine.” Then he added, “We do not plan on staying the night.”

The Altean bowed again and turned on his heel, leaving them alone.

Kolivan walked in first, followed by Antok and Ulaz. Keith waited for Thace to go before him, but the older Galra hesitated. “Keith,” he began, “Did you or Antok run into any trouble while we were inside?”

The question seemed to come out of nowhere, but then Keith realized. Thace had been worried about him, as well. A pleasant feeling blossomed in his chest, but he cleared his throat, removing his mask and shaking his head. “No,” but then he paused, remembering his encounter with the Altean prince. “Wait, actually, yes.”

“Yes?” Thace blinked, one of his ears twitching.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he replied. “Just a bratty little prince who didn’t get his way. He was rude, but he didn’t attack us.”

Thace nodded, realization dawning on his features. He’d been inside, after all. He must have seen the king dismiss his son and the fight the prince had surely put up before shouting from the doorway. But all he said was, “I see.”

Keith cocked his head to the side. “What?”

“Nothing.” Thace shook his head. “But it would probably be best if you kept your distance,” he explained. “We wouldn’t want to appear hostile during negotiations.” He gave a tight smile. “You understand.”

“Of course,” Keith replied without a second thought, following Thace into the room. He had no intention of ever crossing paths with that spoiled prince ever again. And he sincerely hoped he wouldn’t.

He did, however, feel displaced when it came time to meet with the Altean king. Keith was left alone this time, Antok joining the others. He knew it was because of his inexperience, but it was still frustrating. And although their host had provided a lavish meal for him in the suite, he wasn’t hungry.

Something itched under Keith’s skin, a mixture of nervous energy and prickling apprehension. He did not like being separated from the others, not knowing what was going on. He paced the floor, sheathing and unsheathing his blade, until finally, he could take no more. Then Keith remembered the garden he’d seen earlier. It wasn’t too far, he was fairly certain.

Thace had instructed him to keep his distance, but he hadn’t ordered Keith to remain in the room. Besides, a bit of fresh air might do him some good after being cooped up in the guest suite all day. And it might help to get his mind off of things, like the meeting of which he wasn’t a part and over which he had no control.

Mind made up, Keith donned his hood, forgoing the mask for now, and slipped out of the room. It was late and the halls were empty. Keith figured that those in the castle not currently speaking with the king were probably asleep. It made for a hassle-free walk, save for a few wrong turns. But finally, he made it outside.

The garden was even more beautiful at night, the flowers almost glowing under the light of the twin moons. He walked around for a bit before finding a cozy little spot beneath a tall, fruit-bearing tree. He picked a large, pink-hued fruit from a low-hanging branch and brought it up to his nose, giving it a sniff. It certainly smelled edible. His stomach growled and his mouth watered, his body clearly upset with him for skipping dinner.

Keith had only just sunk his teeth into the ripe fruit, when his sensitive ears picked up the sound of a twig snapping behind him. He stiffened, whipping his head toward the intruder.

So much for keeping his distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Prince Lancey Lance's POV in the next chapter.  
> Let's just say he's not having the best day. And how will he react to a stranger in his garden?
> 
> Also, I really hope you all picked up on that certain famous space movie reference I made.
> 
> Please feel free to hit me up on my Voltron side blog [@bleucheesy](http://bleucheesy.tumblr.com)!  
> See you all next week~


	3. A Meeting in the Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back in Lance's POV for this chapter! (I love writing Lance)  
> And here are some actual Klance interactions. Imagine!
> 
> I'd like to thank my lovely beta, Incognito4713 for once again putting up with me.  
> And a special thanks to Laura, for reading this over even though she's not in the fandom.  
> Please enjoy~

Lance rounded a corner, his loud stomping echoing in the hallway. He could already feel the beginnings of a blister on each of his heels, as well as his pinkie toes, so he stopped, pulling his dress shoes off and tossing them over his shoulder.

He knew Hunk was following right behind and wasn’t surprised when the other bent down and picked them up. “Lance-”

“I can’t believe it!” he complained, his feet slapping against the polished floor. “Things were _just_ getting interesting and Father—urrrg!” He paused and Hunk almost ran into his back. “I just…it’s not fair! I’ve been _waiting_ for my chance and-”

“I know,” Hunk soothed, hesitantly reaching a hand out before placing it on the prince’s shoulder. “I’m sure his highness excused you for a good reason.”

Lance snorted, blinking back the tears in his eyes that threatened to fall. “Allura wasn’t asked to leave,” he pointed out and then bit his lower lip when it started to quiver against his will.

“The princess has sat through many meetings before,” Hunk continued, pulling Lance against his broad chest. Lance sniffled and nodded, burying his face in the fabric of Hunk’s tunic.

“It’s not fair…”

“I know.” Hunk’s deep voice rumbled in his chest, vibrating against Lance’s cheek. “But, on the bright side, your schedule has been cleared for the entire day.”

Lance perked up at that, pulling back and glancing up at the taller Altean. “Oh?” he asked, brows raised. “No lessons? No training?”

Hunk shook his head, a wide smile spreading on his face and his eyes crinkling at the corners, just above his bright yellow markings. “What say we sneak into the kitchen and I whip us up some feel-good cookies?” he offered and Lance beamed at him.

“Oh, I _am_ a bad influence on you,” he said, playfully shoving Hunk, though the other didn’t budge. Lance was still upset about the whole meeting incident, but it was hard to stay mad when your best friend was offering to break the rules just so you could have your favorite treat. “Okay,” he agreed, entwining their arms. “Let’s do it.”

 

Nothing satisfied like Hunk’s cooking. And Lance felt, had the cards been dealt differently, his long-time friend would have been quite happy living a lowborn’s life as a baker outside of the capital.

His full stomach, however, only distracted him for so long. Once they’d finished running from the head chef and playing an impromptu game of hide and seek, Lance found his mind wandering back to the meeting.

Three Galran soldiers clad in strange uniforms had burst in, announcing that Lord Zarkon, one of his father’s closest friends and allies, was creating an empire behind his back. Lance hadn’t gotten all of the details, but the moment their leader – Kolivan? – mentioned something about a comet, his father had begun to take them seriously.

And that’s why he’d ordered Lance out of the room.

It had hurt that his father thought so little of him, that he was too delicate to handle a real political discussion. But his argument fell upon deaf ears and then Blaytz was escorting him out, looking truly sorry as he apologized and locked the door.

What could the mutinous Galrans have to say that Lance couldn’t hear?

Lance was so caught up in his thoughts, he barely heard Hunk speaking to him.

“-call it a night.”

“Hmm?” Lance turned his head. It was late now, well past supper time, and the sky was dark. Hunk had already changed into his soft yellow pajamas, obviously ready to catch up on the sleep he’d missed the night before. “Oh, yeah. Go ahead.” Lance waved him off toward his adjoining bedroom.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to sleep in here?” Hunk asked. Back when they were younger, Hunk used to sleep over whenever Lance felt sad or lonely. It was so comforting, especially considering the big guy was basically an Altean space heater. But Lance was too grownup to do that now, even if he wanted to. Which he did.

“Nah, I’m all right,” he assured him, though he caught the reluctance in Hunk’s expression. “Seriously. I’m a big boy. I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure…” Hunk trailed off, grasping at the large pillow in his hands.

“Totally sure,” Lance promised. “Besides, you’re, like, a wall away if I need you.”

“All right.” Hunk nodded. “Do you want me to stick around until you’ve gotten changed?” he offered.

Never mind the fact that Lance had already changed at least three times since he’d left – been forced out of – the meeting. He was currently wearing what he liked to consider ‘lounging chic.’ Comfortable, a little sheer, though it still left enough to the imagination. Though, definitely not what he was going to wear to bed.

But he could handle that himself.

“Aww, did you want to tuck me in?” Lance batted his eyelashes and snorted when Hunk gave a long-suffering sigh. “C’mon, Big Guy, I’m just teasing. Though, if you want, you can hang around and help me with my beauty regimen,” he suggested. “You know I’ve been dying to try that new mask on you. Even out your skin tone-”

“No, thanks.” Hunk held a hand up. “I’d like to get to sleep sometime this decapheeb, if you don’t mind.” And Lance had to bite back a snicker. “Sleep well, Your Highness,” Hunk said with a sweeping bow, his face almost completely serious, save for the twitching at the corner of his lips.”

“And sweet dreams to you, my faithful valet,” he returned, nodding his head and twirling his wrist with a flourish. They both chuckled and Hunk bid him goodnight before disappearing into the other room, the door softly clicking shut behind him.

Not even two ticks after Hunk left, Lance groaned, throwing his head back and collapsing dramatically onto his bed. “I’m so boooored…” he whined to no one in particular. But it was too late to call Hunk back. In fact, he was certain that, should he get up and pad his way over to the door, he would hear telltale snoring from the other side.

He could go with his original plan of pampering himself, maybe even taking a nice soak, but he was too jittery. Too full of energy from lounging about in his room all evening – well, save for his and Hunk’s epic race through the halls, post snack time.

Lance lifted his head from where it was buried in the plush duvet and glanced over at his window. He’d spent weeks gathering enough sheets for his last adventure, but he still wanted to go. Maybe not as far as he and Hunk had traveled the night prior, but a nice walk through his garden might be just what he needed to calm himself down.

As a prince with a lot of time on his hands, Lance had mastered the art of escapery – his word for it – and he’d be darned if a lack of bedsheets was going to keep him cooped up in his room a moment longer. It took some doing – the drapes, a few towels, and an area rug – but he fashioned another rope, albeit shorter than the last, but just as strong.

He tied it to the heavy desk once again and tossed the linen over the sill. It didn’t reach the ground, but the fall didn’t look too bad from where he stood. And, after taking a deep breath, Lance swung his legs over, one at a time, and then eased himself down.

When he reached the end of his rope, he glanced over his shoulder. Okay, so maybe the drop was a _little_ farther than he’d originally calculated. Even after four different tutors, math wasn’t exactly his strong suit.

Lance took a deep breath and let himself drop, his feet almost gracefully touching the ground before he lost his balance and landed on his rear end. “Oww…” He winced and stood up, rubbing his behind. He’d definitely have a bruise in the morning, but other than that, he was unscathed.

After checking that the coast was clear, Lance set out toward one of his favorite spots. He liked the labyrinth, of course, but it was more fun to navigate with Hunk. He frowned. Maybe he should have woken the other up. It was sort of lonely walking around by himself.

Still, anything was better than being kept in his room, so Lance shook his head and continued forward. There was a spot under a beautiful tree with his name on it and, if he was lucky, a ripe appauava fruit. That sounded good, actually. He must have finally finished digesting the unhealthy amount of baked goods Hunk had prepared for them because, at the mention of the juicy, pink fruit, his stomach gave a little growl.

Without wasting another moment, Lance headed toward the appauava tree toward the middle of his garden. He still had to keep quiet, just in case his father had added extra security, due to their _guests_. Ugh, Lance didn’t even want to think about them. It was their fault he’d had to leave. If they hadn’t shown up, he might have dined with the other diplomats, chatting about universal issues and policies – which, now that he thought about it, seemed rather boring, but still! – instead of spending the evening entertaining himself.

Lance rounded a corner and froze, covering his mouth to silence a gasp. He’d been so distracted by his own thoughts, he hadn’t noticed that there was someone right in front of him. He took only a tick to recover and then he blinked. The other was facing away, but Lance recognized his uniform. It was one of the Galra soldiers from earlier. What were they? The Blade of something…? Marmalade? He couldn’t remember.

He was doubly surprised when he realized that not only was the Galra trespassing in Lance’s garden – and sitting under his favorite appauava tree, no less! – but it was the short one. The one who’d witnessed Lance’s embarrassing outburst after he’d been ejected from the assembly.

Now that he thought about it, it was odd. Lance figured that the three Galra who entered couldn’t have been the only ones to make the journey to Altea. And it did make sense that they’d leave a couple outside to stand guard. The larger one, sure, he totally fit the role. He was taller than the average Galra – who were all fairly tall to begin with – and twice as wide. But the shorter one… What was he, a runt? Or was it take your kid to work day?

Armed with a litany of insults for the oblivious intruder sitting under his tree, Lance stepped forward, ready to fire. But he didn’t get a chance because, the moment he accidentally stepped on a fallen twig, the Galra whipped his head around, his mouth stretched over the skin of an almost overly ripe appauava fruit.

They locked eyes and Lance realized a few things at once. The shorter Galra was no longer wearing his mask, his skin was hairless and definitely not purple, and he was gorgeous.

Lance shook his head in an attempt to recover and, during that time, the intruder pulled his mouth way from the fruit, swallowing his bite and staring up at Lance while some of the light pink juice dribbled down his chin. “Uh…”

“So, you make a habit of sneaking into people’s gardens and stealing their fruit?” Lance blurted out. Because, let’s face it, it was either that or ‘Wow, you’re pretty.’ Because, honestly, he was. With his thick black hair and dark eyes. He looked almost Altean, if not for his lack of markings and his… “What’s wrong with your ears?”

“My ears?” he repeated and, by the ancients, he had a nice voice, too!

“They’re…” Lance floundered for a moment, trying to remember what had bothered him about the other’s smaller, rounded ears. “They’re hideous.”

At that, the half-Galra drew his brows down, tossing the appauava fruit to the ground and standing up to his full height which, thankfully, was still just a hair shorter than Lance’s. “Excuse me?” he asked.

“And I see they don’t work properly either,” Lance continued, metaphorically shooting himself in the foot. “Anyway, never mind them,” he went on, waving a hand dismissively. “Who are you and why are you in my garden?”

“Oh.” It was hard to tell under the shade of the tree, but what little moonlight filtered through showed just the hint of a blush on the other’s cheeks. “I…thought it was open to the public.”

Lance crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin. “Well, it is for the enjoyment of the royal family and their esteemed guests,” he said smartly and then gave a short nod. “Now, answer my question. What’s your name?”

“I’m Keith,” he said and then fell to a knee, bowing low. Lance raised his brows, not expecting such a show of respect from someone trespassing. “I arrived with the Blade of Marmora. We were invited to stay here by the king.”

Ah ha! So, Lance’s father must have agreed to hear those Galra soldiers out, after all. And now they were staying in the castle. Interesting.

“I didn’t realize I was trespassing,” Keith continued. “It would…” he swallowed. “It would be much appreciated if you didn’t tell anyone.”

Lance perked up at that. It seemed he wasn’t the only one sneaking out. “Arise,” he said, lifting his hand, and he bit his lip to keep from laughing as the other scrambled to his feet. He sure was cute. “You’re lucky that I am in a forgiving mood.” Or, if he was being honest, Lance _couldn’t_ tell anyone, because if he did, he’d be admitting that he was out of his room, as well.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Keith said and Lance did laugh this time.

“While I agree that I’m quite majestic,” he said, giving a small twirl, “Just Prince Lance, is fine.”

“Oh. Okay.”

They stood there in silence for a moment before Lance broke it. “So, where are the rest of the Blade guys?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“They are meeting with the king and the other peacekeepers,” he replied.

Lance cheeks grew warm, a wave of embarrassment and shame washing over him. He was the son of the king and yet, he knew nothing of a second meeting. How pathetic he must appear in front of the young soldier. But then he thought about the Galra before him. They looked to be about the same age. Maybe he’d been excluded, as well. That would explain why he was here and not in the meeting with the others.

“Why are you not with them?” Lance asked, cocking his head to the side and moving closer. Keith didn’t answer, but he did look up as Lance approached, his eyes going wide. And it was then that Lance noticed what a lovely shade of dark purple they were. “Were you left alone?”

There was a sudden pressure against his chest and, a tick later, Lance found himself flat on his back, staring up at the night sky. It took him a moment to realize what’d happened. Then Keith was leaning over him, blocking the light of the twin moons.

“You _pushed_ me!” Lance accused, unable to read the other’s face, as it was completely in shadow. “You dare to attack the prince in the royal garden?! Why, I have half a mind to-” but Keith clamped his hand over Lance’s mouth, shocking him further. “Mmmpphhmrph!” he tried, no longer annoyed, but angry – and a little scared.

“I’m sorry,” Keith said quickly. “It was an accident!”

“Mmphrphmph!” Lance replied indignantly.

“You were really close and I just…” He pushed back some of his dark hair with his other hand. “I’m really sorry.”

Sorry, indeed! Then why was Lance still on the ground? And why was the other’s hand covering his mouth?

Lance reached up and grabbed Keith’s wrist, but it was impossible to shake him off. Altean’s were strong, ‘even Lance’ as Hunk would occasionally tease, but Galra were something else, including this half-breed.

“Listen. I’m going to move my hand, okay?” Keith said as if he was talking to a child. “Do you promise not to scream?”

Oh, sure. Of course he wouldn’t.

As if!

Lance was going to scream for the guards the moment Keith released him. And then he was going to make sure this soldier got everything he deserved. And heck, if they asked why he was out, he’d simply tell them that the Galra had kidnapped him.

So, Lance nodded. And, when Keith removed his hand, he took a deep breath, ready to give away their position, but he stopped when he heard a familiar voice.

“Yes, this garden was planted during the rule of King Groggery the Infirm!” Coran was just on the other side of the path, blocked by only a few trees. “It’s quite famous, actually and one of the best, if I do say so myself.”

Lance loved Coran, he truly did. He was like a second father to both him and Allura. But the last thing he wanted was to be caught out of his room by his father’s right hand man.

“Who’s-” Keith began, but Lance hushed him, bringing a finger to his lips. Keith grew silent and ducked down. Lance pushed himself up and did the same, peering around the trunk of the closest tree. Keith, who was no better than Lance at following orders, it seemed, spoke again. “Who is that?”

“That’s Coran,” Lance whispered and then hushed him again. When he looked back, he could see a few other’s following behind him, all of them Galra. “Quiznak!” he hissed.

“What?” Keith asked, trying to see over him.

“He’s giving your guys a tour of the garden.” He turned toward Keith just in time to see the other’s face pale. “And since I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t want them finding you here…” he trailed off, lifting his brows.

“Right.” Keith swallowed. “How do we get out of here?”

“We?” Lance began, ready to ditch Keith right then and there, but he stopped when Coran said something else.

“I think King Alfor and the others have had long enough to discuss your proposition,” he said cheerfully, though Lance could tell it was partially put upon. Coran might have appeared to be in a constant state of joviality, but he was the King’s most trusted advisor for a reason.

“I should hope so,” one of them said and was immediately followed by their leader.

“We appreciate you taking the time to give us a tour, Sir Coran.” Kolivan bowed. “Though it would seem that we will require your help in getting back to the meeting room.”

“Ah, yes. These gardens can be a bit confusing to navigate,” Coran replied with a boisterous laugh before twisting the end of his mustache. “And we didn’t even get to the hedge maze,” he added. “But, enough about that, we don’t want to keep the king waiting.”

Lance heard one of them mumble something, but he was immediately silenced by a look from Kolivan. Then the four, including the big, guard-looking one from earlier, followed Coran.

Then Lance got a fantastic idea.

“They’re leaving?” Keith whispered, taking a peek, and Lance nodded before facing him, a huge grin on his face. Keith frowned. “What?”

“Coran is leading them back to the meeting,” Lance said, barely able to contain his excitement. “Do you know what that means?”

“That we’re…not going to get caught out here?” Keith offered, still looking slightly confused.

Lance rolled his eyes. “No,” he sighed. “It means that it isn’t over,” he explained. “We can still go! We just need to follow them and-”

“Whoa!” Keith held a hand up. “With all due respect, Your Highness, I’m going back to my room.”

“Oh, no, it’s too late for that,” Lance said, wrapping an arm around Keith’s shoulders. “We’re in this together now, Mr. Trespasser.” He turned and could practically see the disbelief reflecting back in the other’s large, pretty eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that look.” Lance shook his head and pulled back, ignoring the unfamiliar feeling he got in his chest from being in such close proximity. “We’re just going to listen in on whatever they’re talking about. It’s not like we’re going to crash the meeting.”

Keith still looked unsure. “Prince La-”

“Ut tut tut,” Lance cut him off. “You can either come with me or I can have you thrown in the dungeon for attacking his royal highness. Your choice.” Keith paled again and Lance knew he’d won. So, maybe he’d stretched the truth a little. It didn’t matter. He had an accomplice now and, given his track record – and Hunk could vouch, if necessary – that’s all he needed to get anything done.

Keith stood up and Lance quirked a brow.

“Well, if you want to follow them, you’d better let me take the lead,” he said.

“Aww, isn’t that sweet?” Lance got to his feet and batted his eyelashes. “Going to protect me, brave knight?”

“No,” Keith was quick to reply. “I just think you’ll give away our position with the way you clomp around.”

Lance was taken aback, his jaw dropping at the insult. He was the embodiment of grace. His private dance instructor had told him so. “How dare-”

“Shh!” Keith pressed a finger to his lips. “Do you want to follow them or not? They’re getting away.”

Insulted, but more interested in listening in on whatever it was his father didn’t want him to hear, Lance acquiesced.

Still, as Keith led the way, holding up a fist to signal for Lance to stop, and motioning his hand downward when he wanted Lance to somehow be quieter than he already was, Lance couldn’t help but feel that it would have been worth it to get caught.

 

When they arrived at the meeting place, a different one from earlier, they crouched down behind some bushes, watching as Coran led the others inside.

“I didn’t know this was here,” Lance said, more to himself.

“You didn’t know about a building on your own property?” Keith quirked a brow.

Offended, Lance turned his nose up. “Hey, I knew there were buildings over here, I just didn’t-” he paused, rubbing his temples. “Never mind. I don’t have to explain myself to you. C’mon.” He moved forward, ignoring Keith’s protest, and crept closer to the doorway.

The building had windows, but they were much too high for Lance to peer into. So, he went for the next best thing, peaking through the crack in the door. It didn’t grant him much of a view, but he was able to hear everything the others said.

“So, now that you’ve had ample time to discuss it, what have you decided?” It was hard to tell, but Lance was pretty sure that was the Galra who’d seemed annoyed earlier.

“We do appreciate you taking the time to do so,” Kolivan said. Ooh, that other one was probably in trouble now.

“You brought up several good points and have given us new information that cannot be ignored,” Lance’s father said, sounding a little disappointed.

Lance didn’t have to wonder why. The other Galra had brought accusations against Zarkon, his father’s longtime friend and comrade. Although Lance hadn’t seen him much in his life, the two were almost inseparable when Allura was baby. Of course, they’d started to drift apart after that. His father had said it was because of their schedules and Lance had believed it. Being a king was a tough job, one he was glad he would not have to take over. But now it seemed that maybe his father hadn’t been completely truthful with him.

“As we mentioned, we have a plan as well as several of our soldiers hidden amidst Zarkon’s ranks,” Kolivan said. “We would like to go over this plan in further detail at our base. You understand.”

“We do,” Alfor replied. “Still, I do not think it wise to follow you so soon after the meeting. I’m sure Zarkon will hear of my leaving and question it.”

At some point, Keith had moved from the bushes to behind Lance, pressing his ear against the door. “He won’t go?” he questioned and Lance hushed him, waving one of his hands wildly.

“Perhaps if you sent someone in your stead, to relay the information?” another Galra spoke. Not the big one, but the other who’d be accompanying them. “We would happily grant them passage and ensure-”

“And who do you propose I send?” the king asked. “My wife or daughter? It will raise suspicion!”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” the same Galra said. “But surely there is someone who-”

And at that moment, Keith had leaned just a bit too close, putting all of his weight on Lance and causing him to lose his balance. He fell forward, accidentally opening the door and sending the two sprawling onto the floor.

The room grew silent and Lance felt every set of eyes on him.

Slowly, he stood up, brushing the dirt and a few stray leaves off of his – regrettably – sheer clothing and then cleared his throat. “Father, if you’ve no one else to send,” he began, raising a hand. “I’ll go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance... Oh boy. Yeah, I'm sure King Alfor is just _dying_ to send his only son.
> 
> Please look forward to the next installment and, as always, let me know what you think or hit me up on my Voltron side blog [@bleucheesy](http://bleucheesy.tumblr.com)!


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